


Putting In Long Hours

by SushiOwl



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Justice League, Superman (Comics), Superman - All Media Types, Superman/Batman (Comics)
Genre: Identity, Identity Kink, Late at Night, M/M, Male Slash, Masturbation, SuperBat, World's Finest, clothed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-19
Updated: 2012-09-19
Packaged: 2017-11-14 14:39:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/516277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SushiOwl/pseuds/SushiOwl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark Kent gets a late night visitor at work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Putting In Long Hours

The Daily Planet was like a living creature. It was full of noise and light during the day, everyone within it breathing on the same breath, and quiet and peaceful at night, as if sleeping. Clark liked it at both times, but he found he could work best as night. Most of the lights were off, and it was just him and his computer screen.

Clark stared at the illuminated box, reading over the paragraph that he had written. For other journalists, it was a task to write about an event in a way that was relatable. For him, it was difficult to write about the Justice League saving the world like he hadn't been there. He moved his fingers up under his glasses and rubbed his eyes, groaning.

"Tough night?"

Clark tensed in surprise at the low voice, and he almost turned to see who it was before familiar black gloves slid down his arms, the fingers resting over his wrists. "Batman," he said, letting out a sigh of relief. "How long have you been here?"

Batman didn't reply, and Clark watched his hands as they moved up again. One of those fingers hooked in his tie, slowly pulling the knot out so his tie hung loose on his chest. He leaned back, biting his lip as those clever fingers unbuttoned his shirt half way, before disappearing inside.

He brought his hands to grasp the ends of the armrests on his chair, leaning his head back as Batman's hand roamed across the expanse of his chest. He gave a little grunt when his nipple was plucked. And he licked his lips at Batman's dark little chuckle.

Batman's other arm slid under his, and he leaned more over the chair, revealing more of himself to the screen light. Clark could see only half of his face, as it was mostly shrouded in his cowl, but he definitely saw a devious smirk there. The hand that wasn't pinching at his nipple snaked down and deftly undid his belt. He hissed out a breath when he undid the hook of his pants and pulled down the fly.

"Are you wearing Flash boxers?" Batman abruptly asked.

Clark looked down, because he had forgotten. His boxers were red with little yellow lightning bolts all over them. "I have boxers for everyone, well, except for Wonder Woman. They came in a pack," he said, unashamed. He looked at Batman, who was looking at him, and he could barely see his blue eyes. "Yours are blue with black bats all over them."

"I'll have you know mine are black. Just black."

"Do you even wear underwear in costume?" Clark asked, unable to stop himself.

To that, Batman didn't respond. Instead he looked back down. His gloved hand swiftly removed Clark's cock from his boxers and gave it a stroke. That caused him to groan and tilt his head back, his brows coming together. "Bruce," he whispered.

And that earned him a bite on the neck. Batman did not appreciate when he used his real name while he was in costume, ever the paranoid that somebody was watching and listening. If someone was watching right then, he doubted they would have been listening for aliases. 

Clark made soft noises as he was stroked, before he leaned forward, his elbow mashing onto the keyboard as he covered his mouth with his hand. The hand on him continued, in no particular hurry, and all he could do was stare at the screen. "cxcxvxxxxxxxxxvvvvvvvvvvvv," it said, breaking the string of words in his column.

He pushed his keyboard up against his monitor so that he could put both elbows on his desk and fist his hands in his hair. He grunted when Batman kissed his neck, his thumb moving over the head of his cock each time he pumped him. He felt the hand on his chest move up, fingers ghosting along his neck, before he chin was jerked back.

He moaned against Batman's lips when they claimed his mouth, and he brought his hands up to grab hold of his shoulders, his fingers closing in the black fabric of his cowl. When he opened his mouth, Batman's tongue darted inside, quick and surveying, before he decided he liked the space and started counting his teeth. He earned a strangled moan when he firmly licked the roof.

Clark tried to move his own tongue with him, pursuing him as he drew back, but that only resulted in him having his tongue bitten and then sucked. He arched at the feeling, tugging him more over the back of the chair to kiss him again. He didn't care if he was always chasing him, as long as he got to taste him for a moment he was happy.

He could feel himself growing close to the edge, now that Batman's clever fingers were doing frighteningly amazing things to him. He was moving his hand faster, as if he could taste Clark's desperation on his frantically moving tongue.

Batman devoured his cry as he came, his mouth moving as if to eat him alive. And then he pulled away, looking down at him. Clark couldn't see his eyes, but he had that damn satisfied smirk on again.

And then Batman lifted his hand. Clark couldn't even breathe as he watched him bring his fingers to his mouth and slowly trail his tongue along them, cleaning them with a feline ease and slowness. "God," he whispered when he sucked his middle finger into his mouth, just because.

Clark couldn't even do a thing as Batman leaned over him again, deft hands fixing up his boxers and doing up his pants. He even redid his belt, but he slid his hands over his stomach and chest without touching the undone buttons or eschewed tie.

Clark let out an appreciative little moan as those hands moved up his neck and ears before the tips of his fingers scratched through his hair. And then he slipped away, back into the shadows.

"I'll see you at the Watchtower," came his voice, sounding like it was coming from everywhere around him. "Go back to your work."

Clark sat there for a long time, remembering how to breathe before he even attempted to start thinking. He lifted his hand and pushed his glasses up his nose, blinking at the monitor. "Yeah, right," he muttered, having forgotten what he was writing about.


End file.
